5 July 2015
We got another dog—Petey, a seven-month-old giant puppy. He’s a Lab/Sharpe mix with a big head and hound-dog eyes and mouth (you know that droopy, jowly look). When he rests his head on the floor, his muzzle spreads out in a little puddle. He’s a goofy big-pawed boy, utterly unwary. And just now he was curled up on his dog bed with his paw in his mouth.
I’ve become a person who shoots video of her dogs: Colin and Petey lying on the living room floor both chewing lazily on either end of a big stick.
Enzo turned nine. For his birthday we went to a motel with a pool and jacuzzi right here in town, and to Denny’s for dinner: chocolate chip pancakes and a chocolate shake. Notes:
“How old do you think I’ll be when I’m ready to watch the scariest ever known movie—Jaws?”
In the motel room, “One of my favorite things to do is roll off the bed.” He demonstrates rolling and falling, rolling and falling.
On the prospect of sharing a shake with Teresa instead of getting a kid’s shake of his own: “Maybe it’s best that we just do not share.”
“Mom, do you want some gum? It’s so grapey it might kill you.”
Teresa told Enzo that some grownup men use the hole in the front of their underwear to pee through. (Is this even true?) Anyway, he tried it. “Ah’m startin’ to grow up. See?”